To Attain Courage (Teenlock AU)
by purpleplums
Summary: John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, the class freak and the new kid, the dynamic duo. Three yellow roses and a witty deduction was the start of it all. This story recounts the misadventure of two teens, one trapped in his nightmares and another trapped in a cell named "loneliness" whose courage was found through each other.
1. A New Battlefield

_John felt his sister hold him even more tightly as a sound of a body dropping to the ground sounded unnaturally loud. He sneaked a peek from his sister's embrace trying to ignore the tears that was wetting his sandy hair._

 _His mother trembled in pain on the ground as his father's face contorted in an inhuman way._

 _What once was his safe haven had now become a war-zone._

John Watson woke with a start. He blinked hard as he looked at his surroundings, his brain still trying to wake up from the traumatizing memories…

Tears welled up prickling the back of his eyes. John wanted to slap himself to snap out of it. He was being such a crybaby over something that affected him the least. He felt a blush of embarrassment and anger heat up.

But the tears snuck out of his eyes and onto his cheeks. Eventually he gave up the fight against his own emotions allowing the silence and the solitary atmosphere caress and protect him.

His gaze followed the white moonlight which shone onto his alarm clock stating that it was 5:30 a.m. He rubbed his face hoping that maybe even a faint feeling of drowsiness would come back again, but of course, no such luck for John Watson. He was wide awake with his brain churning at a thousand miles per hour.

He was six and his sister was twelve at the time. His father came home drunk and discharged from work.

That was his first taste of the long gruelling period torture of dread and panic which awaited his mother, sister and himself.

His thoughts came back to him as he forced himself to stop, to tear down the projector playing these painful memories. What he needed the most right now was courage. Courage to face his past, present and future.

Because tomorrow would be another battle. He was to attend Sherrinford secondary in a matter of few hours and he needs all the courage he can muster up to be able to succeed in having a pleasant rest of the year in school.

Suddenly drowsiness started finding its way to him and he decided that it was best that he catch a few last winks before going off to battle.

When his brain officially decided that it would start up, John was already at the bus station.

He took a deep breath before immediately regretting the decision as the bus rolled along to his stop. The ancient looking school bus reeked of diesel and jerked to a stop in front of John and Harry.

"Well, good luck to us both I suppose." Harry sighed as she let John into the bus first before following suit.

John surveyed the armoured car. The bus driver seemed nice enough, smiling while exchanging pleasantry with Harry and John. John couldn't help but notice the night and day contrast between the screeching laughter that sounded from the back and the deafening silence in the front that could almost be felt by a wipe of the hand.

"Hurry up John, you're not going to marry the person you sit next to on the bus." Harry hissed behind him as she pushed him into a random seat in the middle of the bus before trudging to the back of the bus.

John's eyes followed his sister who was already introducing herself to the kids in the back of the bus. One of the few things he admired about her was her unbeatable self-confidence and charisma. She could easily waltz into a room full of strangers and walk out ten minutes later with a group of people buzzing around her.

"I'm sure your sister will fit right in, especially with her new tattoo."

John's head whipped around in surprise as his eyes first set on the boy who was sitting beside him.

"How… I mean I don't even…"

"Oh I I'm sorry, I reckoned that she'd gotten permission…"

John sighed, his sister has quite a rebellious (to say the least) personality.

"My mom's going to flip, anyways, how did you know? I mean sure she's been wearing loose clothing lately but that's all I've noticed." John laughed a bit as the kid smiled back at him.

"Oh, I just saw her coming out of the tattoo parlour the other day while me and my mates were hanging out. By the way, my name's Greg, Greg Lestrade." Greg explained before introducing himself.

"I'm John, John Watson. So, do you have any siblings?" John asked starting a conversation as the bus continued to rattle on towards the battlefield.

The bus doors opened letting the kids off and assimilate with the rest of the school. John waved goodbye to his new friend and started to head up towards his first class, Pre-Cal.

Ah, nothing beats a 'gentle' dose of Pre-Cal to kick off your mornings. John thought sarcastically towards himself as he climbed up the vinyl floored stairs past the large windows and continued to the second flight of stairs. And the best thing is that it's on the third freaking floor. John couldn't help but grumble to himself as he reached the third floor.

It wasn't much of an exercise, just tiresome, especially on a Monday morning and to get to Maths no less. John set his bag on the floor and picked a spot by the window where the gentle winter rain tapped relentlessly on the window as if asking for permission to come inside. The consequences of not sleeping properly were finally getting to him now because he could feel himself dosing off to the gentle pitter patter of the rain hitting the window. This was the first time he felt truly relaxed inside the school walls, without the noise and presence of any human being except for himself.

"eh hem."

John swore he jumped a meter into the air at the sound of someone clearing their throat.

"I'm sorry to have frighten you but this is my spot as the seating plan on the board states."

An apology ensued but John could find no sign of regret on the boy's face. As reluctant to move as John was, he took his bag and stood up from the spot and blushed slightly in embarrassment.

"Oh, um I'm sorry to have taken your spot, I'm new so-"

"Yes, of course, your name's John Watson, you're new and you have an older sibling, not very economically well off because your father had just left your family but I can see your mother still trying to pull things together. Honestly, let's just skip the tedious small talks and get to "know" each other. My name's Sherlock Homes, hello, and I'm sure we'll never talk to each other again after today."

It took ten seconds for John Watson to realize what the hell was going on, twenty seconds to think of how his mouth functioned and thirty seconds to make an attempt at pulling words together to form a sentence.

"First, do I need to call the police to catch a potential stalker?"

"No, I'm not a stalker."

"Alright, second, that would've been astonishing if you haven't said it like that."

"You might've noticed that I don't tend to sugar coat things."

"Thirdly, why in the world would I want to talk to you?"

"Because you seem like the talkative type and apparently, we're going to be sitting right beside each other for the duration of the year."

"Right, now the most important question."

"Yes?"

"Who the hell are you and how do you know all this?"

"I told you, I'm Sherlock Holmes and as to how I know this, I'm not one to reveal my methods. You can know me as the class freak."

And with that, Sherlock refused to say anymore.

John was left shocked yet curious. His new desk partner was turning out to be quite interesting if not a bit odd…

The day dragged on until history which was one of John's favourite subjects. People can think what ever they want about him but history, culture and politics fascinated him.

Even though Sherrinford proved to have a deliciously interesting history class, his thoughts kept flying back to the lanky, pale boy who sat beside him in maths. He knew that curiosity kills the cat but Sherlock was quite unlike anyone he's ever met before. He was still trying to figure out how Sherlock seemingly knew his entire life story within the minute without stalking him.

So, he knows that Sherlock hadn't stalked him, Sherlock couldn't have known him because he lived in a completely different part of town, so then what? He stated himself that he was a "freak" which meant he probably wasn't gossiping with people about the new kid.

The sharp ring of the bell sliced through John's train of thoughts.

"Alright class, remember, the reflection is due tomorrow!"

Ms. Smith raised her voice, trying in vain to catch the class's attention but seeing that almost half of the class shot out of the classroom as soon as the bell rung, Ms. Smith probably won't be collecting much reflections from the class tomorrow.

John started packing, trying to wake his brain up to get ready for science class. But the thought of more work seemed to have the opposite affect he wanted because he felt even more tired as he followed the stream of student going upstairs to the second floor.

Suddenly something caught the corner of his eye, a lanky, pale teen with raven black curls was shoved into the washroom by a group of people who swarmed in after like a pack of ravenous wolves.

John stepped out of the river of people and soon found himself in front of the man's washroom. Even though he never took a real liking to his desk partner he found himself unable to step away from this injustice. He was scared of course, looking at himself he was probably only half the size of even the smallest of the pack.

Then an idea came to mind.

"Oh, hello Mr. Roylott, yeah sorry, I just wanted to talk about some English homework."

John said into the washroom door making sure that the people inside could hear. He cringed inside at the "this person is insane" look that everyone that walked by shot him but to his absolute delight, the pack filed out looking around with very pale faces.

As soon as the last of the pack was out of sight, John rushed into the washroom seeing Sherlock huddled in the corner where the light couldn't reach seemingly lost in thought.

"Hey, are you alight?" John walked up extending a hand wanting to help the other up.

Sherlock took his hand while holding his side with the other hand.

"Thank you."

With a small muttering of thanks, he rushed out of the washroom leaving John there alone before hurrying out remembering how late he was for science class.

The next time he seemed to resurface from his ocean of thought was when the bus jerked to a stop in front of his stop symbolizing that it was time he got of the yellow tin box of diesel.

"So, how was your day at school?" Harry asked starting a conversation as they started back towards their home.

"Interesting to say the least, I met this kid named Sherlock Holmes and he seemed to be able to tell me my entire life story just by looking at me. How insane is that?! Anyways, how was yours?" John summed it up before returning the question.

"Fine, I guess, I got some new friends so that's good. We all need a little group to hang around to survive secondary." Harry shrugged starting to walk on the now barren ground beside the sidewalk.

"Of course you meet new friends on the first day of school. Classic Harriet Watson." John muttered feeling a tinge of jealousy rise in his chest, but just a little bit.

"Jealous, are we?" Harry laughed ruffling John's hair. "To be honest, you're a good person. They don't know what they're missing."

"Now that's just creepy, a compliment from Harriet and to me no less." John slapped her hand away as they approached their house.

"Hey, it's our first day at Sherrinford and I just thought that a little compliment would go a long way. You know, just trying to be a supportive big sister." Harry held her hands up as if surrendering.

"Well, we all have to begin somewhere don't we?" John stole a glance at Harry who rolled her eyes in disapproval.

Harry took out the keys and unlocked the door letting herself and John in before locking the door behind them which symbolized the end of a tiresome school day.


	2. Three Yellow Roses and A Deduction

Another day passed after the incident, with Sherlock sticking to his words refusing to even look in John's direction during maths which was the last block of the day. John couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, a heartfelt thank you would be much appreciated...

It was maths again this morning and as expected, John was the first one in the classroom again. The light rain fell again echoing in the empty room as if to remind John just how lonely he was. _But none of this mattered_ John thought as he sat down (in his seat this time) _he'd rather find a true friend and be lonely now than surround himself with people who don't care at all..._

"I get the feeling that I'm always interrupting you."

John looked up and there Sherlock was, as pale and mysterious as ever taking a seat beside him and putting his backpack down beside himself.

"Well, I mean we've only known each other for two days. What ever happened to the "never speak to each other again" thing?" John laughed as he closed his note book and stuffed it back into his bag.

"Yes, um well, I just wanted to say thank you. For the day before yesterday you know." Sherlock muttered as he pulled out three slightly crumpled yellow roses from his bag which was tied together by a blue ribbon.

This boy just loves to surprise. John stared at the rose and to Sherlock for ten seconds straight before stuttering out a response.

"Sherlock… um I…I'm really flattered by your in…interest. But I'm not gay so…"

"No, god Watson how does your little brain even function? Yellow rose means joy and friendship, it's a token of gratitude. My parents are florists; our flower shop is just down the street." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You were wandering how I knew about you even though having never met you before. I could tell that you had an older sibling, probably a brother by your left sleeve, your family's economic welfare by your socks and your family's dissolution by your phone."

"So what about those things, I don't think I wrote that I had an older brother on my sleeve." John propped his head up with one hand looking at Sherlock with curiosity.

Sherlock took in a deep breath. "Your left sleeve was worn but you are right handed, so how could this be? A hand me down from your older sibling of course. Not a cousin because if you had a close extended family then your family wouldn't be so economically unwell right now. Your socks are clearly handmade even though your mother's skill can compare with store bought ones, I could still tell the difference. Then there was your father, despite your efforts to cover the engraving of "Happy Birthday – Dad" with your mother's black nail polish on the back of your phone, it's still able to be seen if you learn to observe. If you didn't want this painful reminder of your father you could've bought a new phone but because of your family's financial situation that is not an option. But what if your father just passed away? Again, if he passed away you'll probably leave the engravings, it's what people do, sentiment. Am I wrong?"

Sherlock finished before looking away slightly as if ashamed of what he had just done.

"Yes… Yes you're absolutely right." John stared at him in disbelief. "That… was amazing."

Sherlock's head snapped back. "You really think so?" a faint blush crept up his pale cheeks.

"Of course! It feels like I have Einstein sitting right beside me." John smiled shaking his head still not being able to fully grasp of just how brilliant his desk partner was.

"That's not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off."

Their eyes met and as if on cue as the corners of their mouths lifted in unison making a big goofy grin on both of their faces which turned into a fit of uncontrollable giggling.

John didn't even know why he was laughing, maybe because uncontrollable euphoria that had erupted from his chest knowing that he had just made some sort of a new friend within two days in a new school.

Or maybe it was the pure joy that had shattered the cold mask that his desk partner never seemed to have taken off.

Students started coming in in gradual clumps, laughing and talking with their friends before the bell rung which announced the teacher's "grand entrance" silencing everyone symbolizing the initiation their daily dosage of maths hell.

Usually, if John payed attention to the maths teacher's (He didn't bother with remembering his name) daily ritual of boring everyone, he could still manage with maths. But today, his mind seemed to be on strike down right refusing to cooperate and listen. He could hear the words but his brain was unable to make much sense of it and by the time the text book assignment was assigned, John could do absolutely nothing but stare at the alien symbols typed neatly over the pages of his maths textbook.

John took a slight peek at Sherlock who was tearing through this like it was primary school maths before setting his pencil down and sighing contently at his own ability to get this tediously boring assignment over with so quickly.

"Hey Sherlock." John whispered fearing that the teacher would hear and turn his vulture like face towards them.

"Hm?"

"Can you help me with this? I wasn't listening." John asked slightly embarrassed by how Sherlock could whipped through the questions while he didn't even really get the question.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow opening his mouth to say something before slowly closing his mouth and muttering something under his breath.

"Right, yeah, it's not that hard if you could think properly." Sherlock started with a nonchalant tone before noticing the slightly offended look on John's face.

"Oh don't be like that I've never met anyone besides my brother who could think properly." Sherlock "reassured" as he began to turn his attention to the John's textbook finding the first question.

"Speaking of your brother, your deduction wasn't actually completely accurate." John pointed out causing Sherlock to look to him immediately.

"Oh? Enlighten me then." Sherlock raised his eyebrows a bit before his attention was turned back to the textbook again trying to figure out how to teach John how to do this.

"That sweater was a pass me down from my older sister, Harriet. Apparently, some idiot put the man's sweater in the girl's clothing section. It was a clearance sale that day so no refund." John tried to hide the slight pleasure of seeing mister "know-it-all's" blink a few times in realization.

"a sister… A Sister!" Sherlock exclaimed burying his face into one of his hands.

The entire class's eyes locked on Sherlock and John with the latter trying to decide whether to try to laugh it off or beat Sherlock's sorry arse in front of the entire class.

"Mr. Watson, Mr. Holmes. Outside please."

The teacher hissed with his vulture like glare fixed on the two of them.

"There's always something, I really should've known. Whose mother has black nail polish?" Sherlock was still muttering to himself as John dragged him out of the class blushing in pure embarrassment. Great, there goes his streak of never having to be asked outside by the teacher.

"Great, thanks Sherlock, there goes my chance of getting my maths done in class." John threw his arms up in the air. Looking up at Sherlock with an exasperated look.

"I'm sure life would've been a lot easier if you just paid attention like everyone else in this class." Sherlock rolled his eyes flipping his coat collar up and hunching his shoulders so that only his curls stuck out of the coat.

"And this is the part where you apologize." John glared at the curls sticking out of the coat clenching his fists. Was Sherlock always this unreasonable? Did he actually have no friends? By the looks of it, the answer to both questions would be a definite yes.

"Gentlemen, I hope you recognize the disturbance you've brought to this class." The spectacled vulture loomed over them closing the door gently behind him. "I expect you both to be here at lunch for the rest of the week, I would appreciate some help with marking."

With that the teacher opened the door letting them both in the class.

John shrugged slightly thinking that he didn't have anything better to do during lunch before he remembered that he had promised to play football with Greg and his group of friends today.

John sighed making a mental note to tell them that he wouldn't be able to play football until next week. This was all because of the idiot scowling beside him.

The bell rang and John started packing his bags for History. Sherlock merely stayed there silent with a certain anger clouding his austere greyish blue eyes.

John couldn't help himself, but the words flew out all the same. "You look like someone murdered your mother, even though you probably have nothing better to do-"

"-Freak!"

John's attention was caught by the same pack of wolves that had shoved the boy beside him into the washroom the day before.

"Not so prone to biting today are we? I bet your boyfriend here would love to see you "deduce" some more. Come on now, did Sally and Scott here go shagging again last night?" The alpha of the pack snickered, standing out from his pack. He was at least half a head taller than Sherlock with a large frame and slicked hair looking like he just stepped out of a model magazine.

John's face flushed with anger as Sherlock did nothing except for looking straight ahead seemingly not able to see, or feel anything around him.

"I see you've did your hair again before you dropped by for this lovely little visit, there's really no need for you to do that for me Moran. If you wanted to pay a visit, there's no need for makeup." Sherlock muttered slowly still not looking at anyone as he took a book out of his desk and started reading.

"I like to keep up my appearances, unlike someone here. It is courtesy to the public's eye." Moran snickered eyeing John's worn out sleeves and socks.

"At least I'm not a desperate attention hogger, you lot leave Sherlock alone." John snapped as he dropped his head not wanting to see him blush even harder taking his stuff and shoving past them storming out the classroom.

Sherlock seemed more than capable to fend for himself, and John wasn't going to be the plaything of their little games. He thought that maybe Sherlock would at least try to say something for him. But he was probably just way too over his own head.

John couldn't feel anything but drained. He had tried to scrape the last bit of what he has left within himself to give to Sherlock, his lonely, odd yet fascinating desk partner. And when he realized that he had nothing left to give and nothing to return for it, his heart felt nothing but a dull ache, a fatigue that seemed to make his heart beat slower and heavier.

English began and ended with Mr. Roylott scowling at the whole class like they all owed him a million pounds each. Which was basically what he did to most living creatures on this planet too so no one felt personally offended. Despite his innermost desire to boil all his students alive, (John had noticed a copy of Hannibal which had been on Mr. Roylott's desk for way too long to not be suspicious) his English skills were truly impeccable.

Lunch had left john puzzled with the Maths teacher no where in sight. But John decided that he would still serve his sentence in case the vulture swooped in on him at any time.

History rolled along with Ms. Smith giving a lecture on the Industrious Revolution. But John couldn't listen for even a minute, it felt as if the smoke and fog of the Industrious Revolution had crept into his mind and hid everything from him.

John couldn't help but play with the cuff of his sleeves, his uniform should arrive soon. Then he'd look like everyone else, he would be able to hide within the crowd and appear "normal".

"You've just got to get yourself out there. I'm sure you'll make lots of friends in Sherrinford." John could still hear his mother's words in his mind playing repeatedly in his head like a broken cassette tape.

But he felt so…scared. Sure, people don't bite, but they can do things so much worse than biting…

"Mr. Watson? Can you give an example of how the industrious revolution changed people's lives?"

John's head snapped up seeing an unimpressed Ms. Smith and all twenty-three pairs of eyes clamped unto him.

"Uh… The industrialization of manufacturing products caused family owned small businesses to decrease significantly." John answered uneasily hoping that the big words could throw Ms. Smith off thinking that he was listening in class.

"Thank you Mr. Watson."

John sighed in relief inwardly.

"But that wasn't an example that we have talked about. Please pay better attention in class next time"

The class seemed ready to burst with laughter with only their basic human decency keeping them in check.

"I'm sorry Ms. Violet, this won't happen again." John muttered looking down. This was one of the times that he wished that the earth would just suddenly come alive and swallow him whole.

The class's attention eventually turned away from him and the class carried on without any more interruption.

The bell rang signifying the end of History liberating the students into another prison sentence of Science.

John walked out trying to remember his room number because being the buffoon that he was, the idea of grabbing the paper with his room numbers on it completely slipped his mind and so he is left stranded only able to rely on his unreliable memory.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he could see the maths professor coming towards his way with as big of a stride as he could manage with his short legs.

John continued on but walking slightly faster now, maybe the maths professor was just passing by, maybe he fancied a cup of afternoon tea from the staff room…

"Watson!"

 _Crap_

"Yes, professor?" John turned around trying as much as he could to slather a smile across his own face so that detention wouldn't be both lunch and one hour afterschool.

"You are friends with Sherlock, right?"

"I can only say I know him."

"Yes, yes but does he talk with you?"

"Yes, we do talk, may I ask what this is about professor?"

The vulture sighed seemingly annoyed by the fact that he was the one that had to deliver the news.

"As I was told by a student, he got himself in quite a nasty fight right after you left the classroom. The principle would like a word with you all after school." With that he turned around and left as quickly as came.

John stood there processing the words in his head for a minute before changing the direction of his destination.

"That blithering idiot."

John muttered shaking his head as a foolish grin crept up his face and the nurse's office came into view.


	3. Sherlock's New PA

***Author's note (Please read)* Wow, thank you guys so much for all the reviews and views! I actually posted this on Wattpad too but it wasn't very popular there. XDXD Anyways, since I'm from Canada, I spell colour, valour and those kind of words with a "u" and I go by the metric system. BUT I have absolutely no idea what an English high school is like so I'm just using a Canadian high school as my model for Sherrinford. I would love to keep this as accurate as possible so if you attend or have attended an English high school Please please please PM me about how it works because I've tried researching but I only found out that high schools are called secondary in England and (I think) elementary is called primary. That would be amazing and I would gladly change everything! Anyways, enough blabbering from me thank you guys again and please enjoy the new chapter!**

"Oh look who's here, our little bundle of sob story."

John was greeted by the sardonic retort of Moran whose smile would've been on the border of pleasant if not for his downright rude commentary.

"And I see our favourite attention hogger is as snobby as before." John crossed his arms and scowled.

"Prickly like a little hedgehog, are we?"

John rolled his eyes, "I'm not here for you anyways, I'm here to see Sherlock."

"Hey John."

John's attention was turned to his right where Sherlock was sitting and scrolling through his phone. His face was decorated by bruises and cuts with a black eye and a square white bandage stuck on his prominently swollen cheek.

"I thought I deserved a little more attention for being late to class just to check in on you." John sighed smiling a little sadly as he made his way to the armchair where Sherlock sat.

"Hmm, well if I was less worthy to you than science class I'd be absolutely heart broken." Sherlock rolled his eyes before attempting to crack a small smile but failed miserably wincing from the bruises on his face. "It's not like you actually enjoy science."

"You're only partly right, I just don't like the unit we're in right now. Don't get me wrong, I love nature and all but ecology is downright miserable when you are going to stand in the middle of a park in the pouring rain." John grumbled remembering their "fieldtrip" for science next week Wednesday. "And plus, we've only known each other for three days counting today. You should be surprised to find out that you're worth more than being punctuate for science class especially for getting me into a week of detention."

Sherlock shrugged. "Unlikely friendships can form quickly. Your parents become your parents from the moment you're born, maybe we became friends the moment we started talking."

"Mr. Roylott was definitely pleased with you, wasn't he?" John smiled muttering sarcastically at Sherlock's weird metaphor.

"No, I actually scored a 60 last semester for my overall grade. I seem to owe him the most money judging by the looks he gave me." Sherlock answered earnestly scrunching his eyebrows to remember his life under the tyrannical reign of the English teacher.

John couldn't help but burst into laughter under Sherlock's confused glance.

"As much as I love talking with you, I wouldn't want to miss science entirely. If I go now, I'm sure Ms. Hooper would be forgiving enough to give me a pass." John announced as he glanced at his watch stating that he was five minutes late for science.

"I guess I won't keep you then, see you this afternoon." Sherlock sighed taking his phone out curling into the armchair again like an oversized black cat.

"Don't get me wrong but I wish we weren't seeing each other this afternoon." John sighed and left with a little wave of hand to Sherlock who was too busy reading whatever fascinating thing that was on his screen and a scowl to Moran who just grinned at him like the Cheshire cat. Unsettling yet entrancing.

John could just see the girls falling head over heels for this positively mesmerizing illusion. But on the inside there was a beast that thirsted for something to fill a gaping hole.

After a little explaining and a promise to be more punctuate, Ms. Hooper let him off the hook and continued with the different biomes in her nervous voice that always made her seem like she'll pass out from anxiety.

Science seemed to fly past in contrast to the usual drawl. John winced slightly as the bell rang liberating the kids from school but signalling the beginning of John's problems.

He quickly phoned his mom to tell her that he was going to take the public bus home and that she didn't need to worry about him before heading off to the principle's office.

Sherlock was already in there with his face as colourful as ever and Moran sat there without a scratch, his cronies probably did all the dirty work for him.

John couldn't help but feel shame and anger swelling up in his chest. If he had just been more trusting…

"It's fine, John."

Sherlock had placed a hand on John's arm making him look down at Sherlock and exhaling deeply before noticing his own clenching and unclenching hand. That must've gave his thoughts away.

"It's true though, if you hadn't run away for your own sake Sherlock might've suffered less. You're no different than the people who just sat there and watched."

John's head whipped around seeing Moran's smug face. Great, now he's got two mind readers on him now.

"Shut up Moran, if it weren't for you and your pack of idiots none of us would be here right now." Sherlock hissed just as the door opened silencing all of them.

What John presumed to be the principle was a tall, well built man with gelled hair and polished, black leather shoes. His green eyes wore an intelligent gleam as he surveyed the three students.

"Now, let's begin, shall we? I presume that we all understand why we're here?" The principle took his seat behind his office bureau.

"Why aren't the others here?" John asked surprised at the absence of the rest of Moran's gang.

"Sally Donovan and Scott Anderson have been picked up by their parents. I believe Mr. Moran here can represent them well enough." The principle answered folding his hands in front of his chin. "Can I have a full account of the event that took place after maths this morning?"

"Sir, me and my friends were just paying your nephew here a visit. We never thought that he was incapable of taking a friendly teasing." Moran sighed as if truly hurt by Sherlock's actions. "Sir, I believe that your judgement will be as objective as possible."

Mr. Holmes glanced at Sherlock before looking back at Moran his green eyes gleaming with a cold politeness. "Mr. Moran, actions speak louder than words. You may trust that I will be completely objective in my judgments. I see all of you as my students and when I see one student covered in bruises and cuts and the other without a scratch. Do you understand what I see? I see bullying and this school will tolerate none of that. No matter the position that your father holds in the military."

John was delighted to see Moran's mask of being a victim show a crack when a flash of a scowl passed his face and something that even John could see was quite easily noticed by Sherlock and Mr. Holmes.

"Sherlock, what do you say?" He turned his piercing green eyes to Sherlock who sat up a bit straighter.

"Moran and his "friends" came to pay me a visit. We got into a bit of a disagreement and I tried to get to Moran but Anderson stopped me. We fought until Mr. Brook broke us up. That's the facts plain and clear." Sherlock explained looking sincerely at Mr. Holmes.

"They weren't paying Sherlock a "visit", they were name calling him and yesterday, they were trying to beat him up." John spoke up. "And today they succeeded."

Mr. Holmes closed his eyes.

"Mr. Moran, you will be suspended for two weeks for bullying. If we catch even a wisp of you terrorizing the students of Sherringford secondary it'll turn to a month and if it still doesn't stop." Mr. Holmes' eyes flew open. "Then it might just be permanent."

Moran nodded stiffly before storming out of the office looking absolutely livid.

"And Sherlock, you will be suspended for a week for attacking other students. Violence should never be the answer to anything. Do you understand?" Mr. Holmes looked to Sherlock, his eyes slightly… disappointed.

"Yes sir, I understand." Sherlock muttered sighing quietly.

"Good, run along now. I'll have to deal with a very angry officer very soon."

With that, Sherlock left with John following close behind leaving a very troubled yet determined principle behind.

"Well, that went well." John muttered sarcastically as they made it out of the school.

"I'll consider it a week off. Nothing wrong with that." Sherlock shrugged not bothered by the fact that he was just suspended for a week. "Plus, there would hardly be any catching up for me."

"No, it's not that that bothers me. It's the fact that you were suspended at all. Why can't they just see that you were just fighting back and defending yourself?" John exclaimed exasperated at Sherlock's indifference.

"Rumours would start if I wasn't "punished" at all." Sherlock pointed out coolly. "One of the drawbacks of having your uncle as the principle."

They were approaching the bus stop and John was about to wave goodbye to Sherlock before Sherlock suddenly grabbed his arms as if anticipating his goodbye.

"Wait, John you have permission to go home a little later than usual, right?" John nodded with a slightly confused look. "Would you like to come over?"

"Um, well I mean I don't want to trouble your parents…"

"I insist, plus my parents won't even be home. My mom's giving lectures in the afternoon and my dad is on a business trip. Mycroft is taking Eurus on a school fieldtrip and won't be back until six thirty. We'll have the house all to ourselves." Sherlock proposed cracking a fake grin which wrinkled his face. "I'll buy you hot cocoa."

"Promise?"

"Of course, come on then, it's already four and it'll take fifteen minutes to walk to my house." Sherlock started leading the way opposite of the bus station towards a little convenience store.

Five minutes later, they stepped out into the nippy winter air with the bell tinkling behind them as the door closed together.

"Right, and how in the world do you have this much money?" John asked faking a suspicious glance towards Sherlock as he sipped his hot chocolate while holding a packet of ginger nuts in hand. "I do hope that you didn't break into a bank just to impress me."

"No, no nothing of the sort." Sherlock grinned. "You'll see later, I have a job."

John finished the last bite of his ginger nuts before handing the rest of the package to Sherlock who, despite his attempts to seem nonchalant failed miserably with his eyes lighting up in joy at the sight of the entire package within his grasp.

They walked while chatting about nothing important, but mostly Sherlock giving John a full analysis of their fellow peers.

"So, about your job, what is it exactly that you do? I bet it has something to do with that ability of yours." The sight of the front door of Sherlock's front door seemed to allow John to finally voice the question that's been floating around his mind for ages.

"Well, take a guess. It does have something to with the "ability" of mine that you were referring to." Sherlock answered as he opened the door.

"I'd say some sort of consultant given the abilities that you possess. But a consultant for what, I can't imagine." John thought out loud." People come to you with their problems, you observe, listen and deduce your way to solving their problem."

Sherlock stared at him for a second before clapping his hands together and his eyes grew wide with glee.

"Oh, my dear Watson, you may not be the most luminous of lights but as a conductor, you are unbeatable!" He exclaimed literally waltzing into the house forgetting to take his shoes off and the key that was still in his door was completely abandoned.

"Slow down, Sherlock, I have no idea what you're rambling on about." John sighed as he took the abandoned keys out of the door, took off his shoes and closed the door behind him.

"You see, right now, my work as a private detective is extremely boring. Finding some misplaced lunch money is about as interesting as my job gets. But as a consulting detective, I would be able to work on cases from the yard. Oh, this is just lovely, you've helped me invent a new job. Me, Sherlock Holmes, a consulting detective, the only consulting detective. Has a nice ring to it don't you think?" Sherlock explained smiling like a fool as he took off his shoes and threw them back to the front of the house.

"Hmm, well, I'm not sure if the Met would appreciate your help. There's not exactly a degree you can get for becoming a "consulting detective"." John answered thoughtfully as he put Sherlock's shoes nicely besides his as if on instinct.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll convince them somehow. Of course, I'm still a private detective right now, but as soon as I graduate uni, I'll start my own career as a consulting detective." Sherlock waved the doubt off leading John upstairs into his room.

His bed wasn't made but aside from that the room was quite neat which by no mean means clean in this context. Dust was gathering everywhere and a cobweb could be seen in the top right corner of Sherlock's room.

"I'm sure you could do with some dusting…" John commented as he checked out the periodic tables and little specimens hung here and there on the wall. But what caught his eyes the most was the skull on his desk and the violin siting by the legs of the table.

"Dust, is elegant. I use it to keep track of the coming and goings of my family members within my room. It's like a surveillance camera but less technological and impossible to erase." Sherlock stated as he went to the window to let open the curtains.

"Well, of course unless your mother dusts for you." John muttered but nevertheless deeply attracted by the human skull. "Hey, Sherlock, is this… real?"

"Oh yes, he's been an invaluable companion over the years." Sherlock picked the skull up seemingly to check on it before placing it back down. "Don't worry, my aunt works at a museum, apparently, they had a spare skull. Most lovely birthday I could recall." He sighed contently before plopping down by his desk at the window and pulled out the other spare chair gesturing for John to sit in it.

"Right, onto business." Sherlock announced pulling out a thick file with loose paper sticking out at all sides. "I'm hiring you as my PA."


	4. The Game is Afoot!

"I'm sorry, what?" John furrowed his brows smiling at the ridiculous notion.

"You, as my personal assistant. Have I not said that clearly enough?" Sherlock repeated impatiently before sighing at the blank look on John's face. "I'm probably the laziest being there is on this planet and so I need someone to help me with sorting out everything. Bluebell's gone missing and I remember another case that's quite similar to this one and because of my disorganization I can't make head or tail of my case file."

"Bluebell?"

"A rabbit John!"

"Oh…" John thought for a second before agreeing. "Sure, I like organizing things and if we split the fee three/seven I'm in."

"Perfect." Sherlock gave a reverse smile before pulling out four more humongous files. "Let's start now, shall we?"

"Somehow I get the feeling that this was a trap with a bait of hot chocolate and ginger nuts…" John sighed as he got down to work. Thankfully the dividers were alphabetized and so he started reading over the cases and naming them.

"The Solitary Cyclist? You can't be serious John. I only helped that person discover that his ex was a crazy stalker. God, and these names just get stupider. What, are you going to call this one a Study in Rainbow just because I remembered distinctly that there was a rainbow that day at the place they took the picture of the "UFO"?" Sherlock sneered throwing a random case to John who rolled his eyes.

"Actually, that's a half decent name. Plus, I'm here for a reason I trust that you won't interfere with my work." John smiled as he scribbled the name down and sorted it in the folder. "So how many cases do you usually get?"

"About a few every two weeks. But I haven't come across any good ones yet…" Sherlock answered as he picked up his violin. "Shut up now, I need to practice."

"I wasn't going to say anything…" John muttered but nevertheless he stopped talking as Sherlock started tuning his violin.

The sweet tone of the violin soared into several accelerating scales. It was only a warm-up but even without a melody the raw emotion is tangible within each note*1.

John thought of the clarinet gathering dust in his house and smiled in embarrassment. But most of all he was caught off guard by how human the music sounded.

It was as if Sherlock had just completely shed off the armour of a calculating machine when his words transform into the sweet sound of the violin, he seemed so exposed, so vulnerable…

John continued to file before a melody caught his ears, it wasn't playful like the first piece, not as dramatic as the second. It was melancholy yet hopeful. A bright hue of orange and yellow.

"I see you especially enjoy Mendelsohn." Sherlock commented as he set down his violin.

"I have no idea who that guy is but if he was the composer of the piece that you just played then yeah, I did enjoy that very much." John cleared his throat as he checked his wristwatch.

 _"Ring Ring."_

Sherlock's head snapped around at the sound of the door bell ringing.

"A client."

That was all John heard before Sherlock shot out of his room and flew down the stairs. He followed to arrive at the scene of a bored Sherlock and a teary-eyed girl.

"Mr. detective, have you found bluebell yet? Can I please come in? I have something to tell you." The little girl looked like she needed a hug that in no way in hell or heaven would be given by Sherlock.

"No, and I don't believe you'll be able to see it ever again. A missing human, I can find but a runaway rabbit is nearly impossible. Goodbye now, Ms. Kirsty." Sherlock was about to slam the door in the little girl's face before being stopped abruptly by John.

"Hold on a second Sherlock, this is no way to treat a lady." John hissed at Sherlock as he held the door open and ushered Kirsty in.

"Oh great, apparently, you're the master of the house now." Sherlock sulked as he curled up on the sofa in the living room in a black mood.

"He's funny." Kirsty giggled before being silenced by a death glare from Sherlock at her direction.

John couldn't help but chuckle slightly as he took a seat beside Sherlock and Kirsty taking a seat in a little wooden chair.

"So, what discovery do you bring today?" Sherlock snapped impatiently folding his hands under his chin.

"Well, Mr. Sherlock, I suddenly remembered seeing a dark figure at Bluebell's cage the night she disappeared. I thought I was dreaming but the more I thought about it, the more real the dream became until finally I realized that it wasn't a dream at all but that someone had taken Bluebell." Tears started welling up again in little Kirsty's eyes and John hurried to the kitchen to get her a tissue.

"Interesting… Is there anyone else who lives in your house besides your mother?" Sherlock leaned forward his eyes twinkling at the mysterious abduction of Bluebell.

"Well, sometimes James comes. He's mommy's boyfriend, he told me it's alright to call him by his first name." Kirsty thought for a moment. "That's everyone who lives in my house."

Sherlock thought for a moment before asking again. "What is your mother's occupation?"

"She's a Beeologist. I thought that she worked with bees but she just laughed and told me that she worked with living orga…organizations I think." Kirsty squinted her eyes in an attempt at remembering what her mom does.

John couldn't help but laugh a little. "You mean Biologist?"

"Oh, yeah that's what she told me!" Kirsty smiled remembering her mother's occupation. "And James is a doctor of some sort."

"Can we come to your house sometime? I believe that'll give us more clue to this mysterious disappearance." Sherlock stood up and paced around the room.

"Um, how about tomorrow? Mommy's going on a date with James from 6 to 9. I'll tell her that you guys will babysit me." Kirsty got up from her chair and started for the door. "I told mommy that I wouldn't be away long so if I don't go back now she'll be very angry with me. Bye!"

With that she put on her shoes and left closing the door gently behind her.

"At least someone knows how to close the door." John muttered as he got up from the couch.

"You'll come tomorrow, right?" Sherlock breathed so lightly that John almost didn't hear his request.

"I, I'll try to. But there is still homework and everything…" John halted seeing Sherlock's eyes.

"Please."

"Yes, I'll come. But I'm going to bring my homework." John sighed slightly.

"Fantastic! Now, it's already five thirty so I won't keep you any longer. Tomorrow will be a big day."

John didn't wake up feeling ready for the "big day" ahead. He felt that today, his bed had become even more alluring than usual. After a gruelling battle with his blanket, he was forced to wait for Harry just because she felt the desperate need to get her hair on fleek. Which, to be honest, looked fine the way it was. So, just like this, they witnessed the tragedy of watching their bus roll farther and farther away before their very eyes.

"Oh great Harry, now you have to drive us to school." John groaned breathlessly crossing his arms.

"Be thankful that I can drive." Harry rolled her eyes as they started trudging back to their home to get to school which would sound weird in any other context.

They clambered into what John called the "monster truck" as Harry started the engine. With a splutter the monster awoke with fumes coming out of… well… everywhere as if announcing its awakening. John looked around uneasily, there was a reason he called this tiny, rickety, ancient relic of a car the monster truck…

"Alright, hold on now cos we've only fifteen minutes until class starts and I have an important test that I don't want to miss." Harry stepped on the gas as her "tamed" beast lurched into action sending John into a screaming fit. But Harry seemed to be encouraged by his screams because the next thing he knew, they were speeding down the road breaking the speed limit with horns honking all around them and Harry screaming "Pardon me." "So sorry." While barely missing some other car.

"Harry, I don't think they can HEAR YOU!" John screamed as Harry swerved right missing a bold pigeon by a dozen centimetres.

"It's fine, as long as I don't bump into anyone and drive fast enough to not get a ticket, I'll be fine." Harry laughed taking a glance at the clock on the dashboard. "We should be right on time if I continue like this."

"How the hell did you even get your license? Your instructor must be a drunk." John rolled his eyes as they continued to speed down the road to Sherrinford at break neck speed.

It was a miracle they made it to school in one piece but the bigger miracle was the fact that Harry didn't receive a single ticket. To paraphrase a quote from Tintin, "There must be a God that watches over all drunks." But "ruthless drivers" instead of "drunks".

John reported to the office for being late and immediately rushed to science where he was greeted by an annoyed sigh from Ms. Hooper and stares from the entire class.

 _Best way to start off your day, attain unwanted attention…_

John thought sarcastically to himself as he hurried to his desk to participate in the fun filled activity of learning all about the water cycle again for the millionth time.

It wasn't until the last period that John remembered that Sherlock had been suspended for two weeks and that they ere going to "babysit" Kirsty to try to find a rabbit kidnapper.

As stupid as that sounded, John actually sort of looked forward to this evening. It would finally break his monotonous existence…

A little girl who could only be Sherlock's little sister was the one to open the door for John when he rang the doorbell of the Holmes' household.

"Hello, Sherlock's upstairs waiting for you but I can call him downstairs if you want." Eurus spoke lightly as her misty grey eyes scanned John thoroughly. "Don't bother asking me anything, and no, brother hasn't told me anything but big brother and I don't have acquaintances so you can only be for him. Childishly simple really."

John couldn't help but stare at the girl, obviously, the queerness was in their genes. "You're Eurus, right? Sherlock's mentioned you, I'm John by the way, John Watson."

"Come in then, mummy wouldn't be happy if she knew that I had left a guest on the doorstep for so long." Eurus spoke again in her mysteriously silent way as she allowed John entrance. When she closed the door after John came in, she disappeared upstairs.

He followed suit locating Sherlock's room by memory and entering before symbolically knocking a few times on the door.

"John, there's no one in there."

John jumped at the familiar tenor voice behind him. "Sherlock! Eurus told me-"

"Oh, don't mind her she's got a queer sense of humour…" Sherlock rolled his eyes remembering Eurus's smile as he went up the stairs before holding out a plate of muffins. "Do you want one?"

John's eyes glowed at the plump, perfectly tanned muffins which emitted an intoxicating aroma. "Wow thanks…" John's eyes widened in surprise as he felt the warmth of the muffins. _Did Sherlock-_

"Yes, I baked these, chemistry in the most delicious form as my brother puts it. But I usually just tidy up my mind palace when I bake." Holding the plate in one hand, he went past John and opened the door letting John in before closing it behind him.

"You can definitely become a baker if you wanted to, these muffins are great!" John complimented as he finished the last bite of his apple crumble muffin.

"How dull, I only bake because my brother tells me to clean out my palace once every month. If I had to make a living from that I'd be bored to death." Sherlock rolled his eyes in response. "I thought you had homework?"

"Right, it's five fifteen right now, I should be done before we leave to look after Kirsty." John plopped down by the table and started working with Sherlock on his phone again madly tapping away at something.

The companionable silence was broken by John stretching after finishing his math and history homework which was just leftover work from class.

"John, grab your coat we're leaving." Sherlock stood up throwing John his jacket and grabbing his own before opening the door and stood there waiting impatiently. "Come on, we don't have all day."

"Do I just leave my stuff here?" John asked but already putting on his jacket.

"I don't see why not; we're coming back later." Sherlock shrugged starting to walk down the stairs joined by John at his side.

"For now, the game's afoot John!"

1*: If you're Chinese you may recognize this as a rough translation of the a line of the poem "Pipa xing" by the great poet Bai Ju Yi: 转轴拨玄三两声，未成曲调先有情.


	5. The Rabbit of the Stapleton Household

If the game meant playing house with Kirsty, then John would rather be sitting in Mr. Brook's classroom listening to his demonic chanting of mathematical concepts and formulas.

Sherlock was already hopping about, looking more like the missing rabbit than anything else. Apparently, James was going to be late so it was John's role to behave and gain Ms. Stapleton's trust in them as Kirsty's temporary babysitter.

Ms. Stapleton was a stern woman who had an air of authority about her. John soon learned from making polite conversation that she was the head of the local Biologist society. Ms. Stapleton seemed quite fond of him even with the detached atmosphere which she emitted all the time.

Finally, the doorbell rang and with a farewell, Ms. Stapleton left after leaving a kiss on Kirsty's cheek and a reminder for her to behave.

"Sherlock? Where are you?" John immediately stood up with Kirsty tagging along with him leaving the princesses and James Bonds strewn in a heap on the floor.

"In here, John." Sherlock stuck his head out of Kirsty's room which was at the end of the corridor facing the living room.

"So, any discovery?" John came into Kirsty's room which was simple yet quite aesthetically pleasing. A bed, a tiny bookshelf, a desk, a chair and an aquarium that probably was once Bluebell's home were all the major furniture in her small room. There was a Christmas cactus on the desk and a painting beside her bed as decoration. Classic literatures and story books dotted her bookshelf in random intervals while a penguin plushie stood guard on her bed.

"Quite some discoveries. Kirsty, tell your mother to break up with this James. He's the culprit of this kidnapping." Sherlock sighed looking disappointed at the lack of challenge this case provided. He was about to walk out of the room before he felt a hand pull him back.

"Wait, Sherlock, you can't just walk out of here like that after telling someone that their mother's boyfriend kidnapped their pet. We need some explanation." John said smiling out of disbelief. "Not everyone's brain was stolen from the laboratory where they kept Einstein's brain."

Sherlock exhaled exasperated before starting with his explanation. "There were no marks on the window. This window is generally closed especially now because it's winter so naturally, dust gathers. There were no disturbances of dust on the window so what's the only other way in? Through the door. And why would anyone in their right mind go through the trouble of dismantling someone's security system just to get to a rabbit? So, the culprit must be someone who lives in this flat. If Ms. Stapleton wanted to take Bluebell, there are easier ways to get her daughter to just hand over the rabbit. She's an intelligent woman, she has the skill at get an eight-year-old to hand over her pet. But if James asked for Bluebell, it would look quite suspicious no matter what excuse he gave and by the looks of this, it seems that our rabbit thief doesn't plan on returning Bluebell either."

"But James couldn't have done it! He's always so nice and we always played together-" Kirsty wailed with her hazelnut eyes as large as ever looking at Sherlock.

"He must be a great actor then." Sherlock said nonchalantly. "If I wasn't on this case I'm sure he would've gotten away with it too."

"Mr. Holmes! He wasn't staying here when Bluebell was taken." Kirsty frowned putting her hands on her waist.

"Oh, it seems that he has an alibi." Sherlock grinned putting his hands together under his chin. "Does he have the keys to this flat?"

"No." Kirsty answered with what looked like a childish triumphant grin that flashed across her face.

"He doesn't have a motive either." John pointed out raising an eyebrow at Sherlock.

"Oh, now suddenly you've become the crime expert. Why don't you tell me who took Kirsty's rabbit then since you've become the "smart" one." Sherlock scowled crossing his arms.

"I sincerely hope that everything that comes out of your stupid mouth is a script written by an author putting in the subtext of "punch me in my perfectly sculpted face" in every miserable word you say because if not, prepared to have your cheekbones punched into your face." John growled back in a low voice staring daggers at Sherlock who stood there with a taunting look on his face.

"I'd like to see y— "

"Guys, please, you're not here to fight." Kirsty broke up the fight, no, war which was about to break out. "We still don't know where Bluebell is or who took her and it's already seven O' clock right now. You guys will have to leave by nine!"

"Sherlock, she's right. We should rule out James as a suspect." John said calming down. "And I'm sorry for saying that, I don't mean any of it."

Sherlock humphed before reaching out a hand.

"And this is…?" John looked at Sherlock's outstretched hand in confusion.

"Isn't this what you people do? Shake hands as a way of making accord?" Sherlock started dropping his hand noticing that John clearly had no idea what he was trying to do.

To his surprise, his hand was caught before it dropped back to his side and shaken heartily a few times by another smaller, more tanned hand.

"Yes, this is what we people do. But it's usually done more in TV shows and movies than in real life." John laughed a little at Sherlock's cluelessness.

"Well then, onto business." Sherlock took a deep breath dropping his hand and surveying the room once more.

Windows: unopened Cage: opened but commonly – nothing and be told from that. Deliberately erased evidence…

"Kirsty, was Bluebell making any noise when she was taken?" Sherlock asked snapping out of his thoughts.

"I… I don't know. I don't think so…" Kirsty squinted her eyes trying to remember.

"Interesting, thank you." Sherlock grinned. "May I take Bluebell's food bowl too please?" With that, he wandered out of the room with an entranced look on his face.

"What's he up to?" Kirsty whispered to John who just grabbed a book from the shelf.

"Sherlock's going to be thinking so we should just stay here and read instead of going out to play."

When Ms. Stapleton and James returned, Kirsty was already asleep on her bed with John and Sherlock sitting in the living room.

They were payed and thanked by Ms. Stapleton but just before they left Sherlock turned around.

"Oh, one question, Ms. Stapleton, is your daughter a light sleeper?"

"No, she usually sleeps very well except for the occasional nightmares. Bluebell is quite an able-bodied rabbit and Kirsty is extremely imaginative and can be forgetful at times." She paused. "Goodnight, John, Sherlock."

And with that, she closed the door leaving Sherlock and John in the corridor of the building.

"She's lying."

John furrowed his brows at Sherlock. "What?"

"She's lying about Kirsty." Sherlock continued as his breath formed into clusters of cloudy vapour before disappearing into the freezing night.

"I don't understand, why would she do that?" John immediately responded before pausing. "You're not suggesting… No…"

"Yes." Sherlock went on. "Ms. Stapleton is in on it too."

"But that doesn't make sense, you said that if she wanted to take Bluebell there were other ways… Unless…"

"Unless she's not planning on returning Bluebell. You know, Kirsty _is_ a very persistent little girl." Sherlock stopped in front of the bus stop. "Good night John, expect good news tomorrow."

Sherlock left dramatically with a swish of his black coat heading opposite of John's bus allowing the darkness to engulf him as the headlight of the bus passed him.

 _And you are quite the drama queen._ John smiled to himself as he took a seat on the almost deserted bus and stared out the window.

The next morning John was, to his surprise woken by Harry shaking him feverishly.

"John, wake up! Wake up! You gotta see the news!"

"Harry! Get out of my room! What time is it even?" John sat up groggily escaping from his sister's concussion inducing shaking.

"None of that's important. John, you know Moran? That bully you talked about?"

"Yeah, what about him?"

"Apparently, he's committed suicide."


	6. Shut Up Sherlock!

**Hey guys, sorry for the short updates! I'm currently visiting relatives in China and a little busy but I'll try updating often with short updates! Thank you guys for all the support and reviews! I could never imagine how I'd continue without all of you! Anyways, please enjoy this short update all the same and till next time~**

 **-With love, author**

"Sherlock, have you heard?"

"Yes John, Moran was rumoured to have committed suicide."

"Rumoured?"

"His body was never recovered."

"Then why would they announce him dead?"

"The NSY haven't, it's only the media that's been spreading the news."

"They're not allowed to do that…"

"They shouldn't, but freedom of speech."

"Alright, I'll see you soon, my bus should be at school in ten minutes."

John hung up seeing an interested look on Greg's face.

"You've made friends with Sherlock Holmes." Greg said raising an eyebrow with a smile on his face.

"Well, yes, he may seem quite stoic and queer on the outside, I mean, he is that on the inside too but—

Greg chuckled a little. "You don't need to explain yourself, I know he's a great person." He paused. "I hope he'll become a good one."

John sighed in relief. "You know, even if you didn't like him and suggest that I would stop hanging out with him I wouldn't listen."

"I know, I can tell you're the stubborn type." Greg said. "But you still have to come to play football with us during lunch ok? We can't afford to lose someone like you."

John laughed. "Yeah, yeah, of course I'll come after I've served my sentence."

Sherlock was quite easy to spot being so tall and everything. In fact, it's almost impossible to miss him with his huge black coat and a frosty atmosphere about him all the time.

John said goodbye to Greg and headed straight to the lanky teen.

"Hey." John smiled a bit. "So, the good news?"

Sherlock's eyes gleamed. "I got my hands on something before the NSY could."

John furrowed his brows. "Sherlock, whatever you have could be important evidence and if I remember correctly, withholding evidence is illegal."

"How dull, you and your little goldfish mind." Sherlock rolled his eyes in exasperation his nose wrinkling in distaste.

John sighed. "Ok, it is very intriguing what you have and how you got your hands on it before Scotland Yard."

A little note was passed to John. It read:

 **Fathomless** they **were**

Everlasting **the** crippling **insanity**

Raised **inside** the **Sherrinford**

Experiments were commonplace

Justice is unheard of here

Angels have turns their back on this god forsaken place

Covered by the filth of greed

Queer how blind people can choose to be

Unforgiving, wrathful

Etching our vengeance into a stone

Someone must pay.

"Did you highlight the first three lines?" John asked after reading the chilling note.

"Yes, the first three lines is a skip code. Moran must've run out of time to continue this in the rest of his note." Sherlock took the note back and stuffed it in his pockets. "But he did get his message across."

"Is he implying that Sherrinford was built on top of a mental asylum?" John asked tentatively. "But what does that have to do with his rumoured suicide?"

"I have no idea." Sherlock smiled as he started walking seemingly unable to contain his excitement.

"And how _did_ you get your hands on that note?" John asked as they made their way to their maths classroom.

"I may be alone but that doesn't mean I don't have help." Sherlock smiled at John. "Ah! Lestrade, do you have the surveillance footage?"

"Greg!" John exclaimed unable to contain his amazement.

"Hey John." Greg smiled before handing Sherlock an USB. "It's all on here, you better get Moran back because hacking into the school surveillance system was not a simple task."

"If you ever get into Scotland Yard… Well, let's hope you don't." Sherlock snickered before wincing from John's "bone-crushing" smack on the arm.

"Sherlock, you say thank you when someone do you a favour." John hissed at Sherlock with Lestrade seemingly ready to burst into laughter at any given second.

"Thank you, Lestrade." Sherlock scowled before storming into the math classroom followed by a very displeased John.

"Sherlock, that's not how you treat people." John sat down in his spot. "There's nothing to gain in being a psychopath."

"High-functioning sociopath. Please do some research as it can be seen that your puny little brain is incapable of deducing such things." Sherlock reversed smiled after giving a "friendly reminder". "You should know that all emotion is a flaw to the cold reason which I hold above all else."

John sighed before standing up. "Tell Mr. Brook that I'm using the washroom."

Sherlock watched John walk slightly stiffly out of the classroom.

 _Angered, confused, disappointed. What horrid things to feel._

Sherlock folded his hands under his chin.

 _Why does he care about what I do to others?_

 _High morals, nightmares, fear._

 _Fear?_

 _That you may treat him like that. And you did._

Sherlock's brows knitted together for a second. He needed a PA and he got one; every move he makes is calculated. Just enough "affection" to make him stay.

 _I abhor all emotions._

 _Of course, of course Spock._

John had returned and class had started then. Sherlock tossed and turned the message in his head but to no avail. He was distracted by something, something he hasn't felt in a long time.

 _I must be insane_ John smiled sneaking a peek at Sherlock who was reading a book on different codes. _How did I choose him? Out of all the people here._

John sighed. Somehow, he felt something, something that had left him a long time ago… _Courage_

 _Just this once, let me try and write my own story instead of someone else's. Let me walk down this path without regret or fear._

John made a bargain during that math class with himself. A bargain which would complete him if won, but break him even more if lost…

At lunch, John went to the last detention of the week with Sherlock who had just finished the book on codes with the thickness of a dictionary.

"John, I've tried all the codes and none of them make sense, the skip code was simple enough but there has to be another code. I know there is." Sherlock said as they were marking the homework of their fellow classmates.

"How? Maybe he just intended to leave that skip code." John shrugged giving a 10 out of 15 for someone's work sheet.

"The skip code only took up three lines, if that was the only code, then why would he bother writing the rest? He was in a hurry judging by the font he used on the note. He wouldn't waste his time like that." Sherlock explained whispering quickly not wanting to prolong his sentence.

"Gentlemen, I am not deaf." The croaky voice of the old professor sounded immediately silencing both John and Sherlock.

After a period of silence Mr. Brook got up and left to get him lunch leaving Sherlock and John alone in the room for fifteen minutes.

"Sherlock, if you think that Moran was kidnapped—"

"Know"

"Ok, if you _know_ that Moran was kidnapped and his body was never recovered then why would the newspaper all spread the fake news that Moran had committed suicide?"

"Because someone is telling them to, someone who is the manipulator of it all. Plus, they're not actually spreading and fake news, yet. The surveillance does show him walking to the rooftop of the school and shows his body on the ground but the jump was never shown."

"Someone wants to hush it all up but doesn't want everyone to go searching for a missing boy." John speculated under the slightly approving gaze of Sherlock.

"Finally, a decent analysis." Sherlock smiled. "But the person we're going against is extremely powerful and influential… Could be dangerous."

"Do you think danger fazes me?" John grinned looking up at Sherlock who had already opened his mouth. "Shut up and no, it doesn't, so forget your deduction and trust me on this one. I am your PA after all."

Sherlock closed his mouth. "Your sister won't be here for y—"

"SHUT UP."


	7. The Two Tigers

**Hello~ sorry for the inexcusably long wait! I've run a little low on inspiration but most of since I'm in China I've been out mostly with my relatives instead of spending time writing. Since I haven't spoken a word of English for a month I feel like my grammar has retrogressed too. XDXD Anyways please enjoy this slightly longer chapter as a compensation! I apologize again and until next time!**

 **-Plums**

The final bell rang releasing the students to two days of rest. Sherlock and John were going to Sherlock's place again so that John could continue with his filing and Sherlock could continue with the code.

"I totally forgot about this but how are you even here at school? Weren't you suspended?" John asked turning his head to Sherlock as they headed to his house.

"Yes, but with the Moran business and uncle Rudy never actually wanting to suspend me allowed me to come and gather evidence." Sherlock smiled lifting only one corner of his mouth giving John a look of success.

"A perk of having one's uncle as the principle." John remarked breaking them both into laughter.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Sherlock sunk into a deep thought as all possible codes ran through his mind. His gaze became far away and a mist of intense thoughts glazed over his eyes.

John followed silently knowing, without being told that Sherlock needed silence right now. It wasn't until they were in Sherlock's room again when Sherlock seem to wake from his trance of deep thought. John was already starting on his homework then, finished with the filing.

"John, I suggest a thesaurus."

John looked up incredulously. "How—"

"Oh please I have eyes, what are you even writing about?"

John looked down at the acrostic poem that he was supposed to hand in on Monday. "We're supposed to write an acrostic using the title of the short story we're reading. It's called "The Tell Tale Heart"

"American literature? Fancy."

Suddenly, Sherlock seemed to freeze before clapping his hands together.

"Oh… oh! John! I've been so blind! The answer was right before me!" Sherlock stood up his eyes gleaming as he tapped away at his phone.

"Sherlock?"

"John, we're going to Soo Lin's tomorrow." Sherlock declared waving his phone with his text still on the screen.

"What? Why? How do you even know her address?" John furrowed his brows in confusion.

"Please, I know everyone's address. All will be explained in good time, my dear Watson but for now." Sherlock closed the file which John had finished organizing. "I'll need a cup of tea. If you'll be so kind John."

John went downstairs to make Sherlock and himself a cup of tea beginning to realize that Sherlock might've just solved the other code within the little note.

When he went upstairs with two cups of tea in his hands, a little note was passed to him.

"Fere Jaqcues"

"The children's rhymes? And "frére" is spelt wrong." John commented on the little note.

"Shows a bit of the attentiveness which the author of the note has in French class. But most of all." Sherlock smiled. "It's an acrostic. I've been so caught up with wanting something witty that I completely ruled out the possibility of such an easy code hiding in the note."

John nodded. "Fair enough, but what does this song has to do with Moran's kidnapping?"

"We'll be able to find him through this, and this is where Soo Lin comes in." Sherlock explained before grabbing his violin.

John left silently after he toiled through the poem. Sherlock was in deep thought again sawing away at his violin.

As he descended the stairs a tall, official looking young man seemed to be waiting for him down the stairs.

"John Watson?"

John narrowed his eyes for a moment. "You must be Mycroft."

"That is, how they refer to me." Mycroft bowed his head slightly. "Who are you and what exactly is the relationship between you and Sherlock?"

John straightened himself out in front of what seemed to him, the towering young man.

"I'm just an average teen, a nobody and Sherlock is my friend."

Mycroft chuckled softly.

"What loyalty! Out of all the people around you why did you choose my brother?"

"He seemed lonely and in need of a friend. It just so happens that I fitted that category as well."

Mycroft now laughed.

"Pies don't fall out of the sky, Mr. Watson. Sherlock! If you don't hurry I just might lead your goldfish away. He's almost too good to be true"

Sherlock almost whipped his door open as he trudged down the stairs and took John by the hand.

"None of your business, Mycroft." Sherlock glowered at his brother who just grinned wider.

The cool night air turned both Sherlock and John's breaths into pure white mists floating into the forever sky.

"Sherlock, this is slightly… awkward." John muttered his hand still held tightly in Sherlock's.

"Oh right." Sherlock let go quickly putting his hands into his coat before clearing his throat. "So, what did my brother say to you?"

John raised an eyebrow. "Sherlock, I know you heard all of it. I do have a question, what did your brother mean by "Pies don't fall out of the sky."?"

"I can only assume that he thinks that you're too good for me." Sherlock turned to John and smiled a bit.

There was a pause between them before it started to snow. The snow sneaked in, spiralling down gradually like feathers of angels drifting into the mortal world. John saw something in that smile. Maybe it was the snow in his black curls, or his slightly trembling eyelashes. But through that snow, there was something that made his heartbeat pick up just a little bit.

"You should hear what you're saying, the great detective Sherlock Holmes isn't good enough for the ordinary John Watson? How preposterous is that?" John laughed turning around not wanting Sherlock to see his eyes even though there was nothing to hide… right?

"Be here at ten tomorrow."

That was all Sherlock said before turning around and walking back home. John couldn't help but stare at his back as he walked alone back home.

 _Wouldn't it be nice if he didn't seem that lonely… To have someone always beside him?_

 _John, you knew what Mycroft meant, be careful—_

 _Why? Because you're scared?_

 _Just… be careful_

The bus came then taking John back home with his mind and heart arguing on and on. But John always knew that his heart would win because after all, his heart governed his mind.

The next morning was a usual cold and bleak winter morning. But the first snow which fell upon earth last night covered the earth like a gentle blanket.

John stood at the bus station waiting for Sherlock to show up as he rubbed his gloved hands together trying to gain some senses in his hands again.

Kids' laughter rang in the air as more and more snowmen were erected where there were spare spaces.

Out of the corner of his eyes, John saw the tall, blue scarfed teen coming his way.

"Sherlock!" John waved as he trudged through the snow to meet Sherlock.

"Ready?"

"Always."

They started walking towards where John assumed where Soo Lin lived before Sherlock suddenly spoke up.

"John, I need you to go interview Soo Lin alone today. There's some research that I need to do in the library." Sherlock said as he handed John a notebook and a pen.

John stuffed them into his pocket. "What am I supposed to even ask her?"

"It's all on the notebook but for now, I'll need to turn here to get to the library. Meet me at my place at twelve." Sherlock and John had stopped in front of an apartment building on the borders of Chinatown.

John studied the note book for a little bit before pressing on the Soo Lin's bell.

"Hello?" A slightly accented voice came from the little speaker.

"Yes, hi, I'm John Watson. Sherlock had texted you yesterday—"

"Ah, yes, please come up."

With that John was buzzed in and before he knew it, he was invited into a tiny flat by a tiny lady who can only be described as ancient looking.

"Hello, Mrs. Yao I'm here to see Soo Lin." John smiled a little trying to seem pleasant and not just a random, foreign stranger on the doorstep.

"Hey John." John had been led in by Soo Lin's grandmother (at least he thought) and was seated at the table when Soo Lin came in with three cups of tea.

"Hi, Soo Lin, sorry to come so unexpected. I'm sure you thought you'd see Sherlock instead of the new kid." John tried to make conversation still smiling.

"Oh no, it's fine really. I know that Sherlock has his ways." Soo Lin smiled. "Just one thing, John. My grandma would rather be called Ms. Lin."

"Oh, her maiden name? Right, sorry, I'll watch my mouth." John smiled apologetically.

"It's no big deal, it's just that Chinese women keep their last name even when they get married. Of course, this isn't traditional but it's the way things are now." Soo Lin explained as she brought out milk and sugar for John.

"Thank you. Would you like some too?" John offered putting a little milk into his black tea.

"No thank you, we don't usually drink tea with milk and sugar," Soo Lin took a sip of her tea before setting her tea down onto the table. "But enough of this chit chat, I'm sure you didn't come to just have a cup of tea."

"It's a weird question." John paused looking at his notebook to check the directions again. "But I've heard that there's something with the Chinese version of Frere Jacques. Is that true?"

"A strange question indeed. But in Chinese the lyrics to Frere Jacques is quite different than the English or French version. It's actually called "The Two Tigers" in Chinese." Soo Lin seem to be thinking back into her childhood. "The lyrics, translated would be:

Two tigers, two tigers

Running fast, running fast.

One is without an eye and the other without an ear,

How queer! How queer!

John raised an eyebrow at the strange lyrics but nevertheless wrote the entire song down onto his notebook.

"Is it true that you were once good friends with Moran?" John looked up at Soo Lin after he had finished writing down the lyrics.

Soo Lin sighed. "We were in the same class through out primary. He was quite sweet, I actually tried teaching him "The Two Tigers" once after music class." She chuckled slightly before her gentle brown eyes grew sorrowful. "but something seemed to happen during the first year of secondary. He wouldn't smile, he seemed in perpetual thought. But most of all he always seemed depressed, like there's always a cloud above his head. I tried asking him what was the matter but he refused to talk to me. We drifted apart soon."

Soo Lin looked down with guilt. "Maybe if I tried harder to help him things wouldn't have come to this."

She blinked hard but the tears still came. "I…I'm sorry but you know, hearing that someone you were once quite close with just doing something like this... it does something to you"

John looked to her with gentle eyes. "I once loved someone with all my heart, but in the end he turned on me, turned on the rest of his family in fact. Crying won't solve anything, but it's not a sign of weakness. Crying is just like smiling, laughing, throwing a tantrum. An expression of one's emotion. So there's nothing to be sorry about."

Soo Lin had wiped away her tears. "That's why I'll give you and Sherlock as much help as I can. This isn't a suicide, is it? Or else you wouldn't be here."

"I've heard Asians have a knack of being smart." John said giving Soo Lin a quick wink. "Yes, I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to say but Moran didn't commit suicide, or else I wouldn't be here."

"Why isn't Sherlock here with you?" Soo Lin asked.

"Well, he needed to go to the library. Not entirely sure why." John responded.

"Just something I needed to say but you two remind me of a word in Chinese. It's called "zhi yin"." Soo Lin placed her face on one of her cheeks giving the appearance of a curious doe.

"As a straight white guy I have no idea what that word means." John joked chuckling a bit.

"Well, if literally translated it means: know sound. The story behind it is of a lonely musician that's understood by no one and a ordinary woodcutter who understood all the pieces he played. They agreed to meet at the same place one year later but when the musician returned the woodcutter was nowhere to be found. He asked the locals about his friend and was told that the woodcutter had died a few months before and had requested to be buried at the place where they agreed to meet. The musician never knew the woodcutter's name. Therefor, he couldn't see the woodcutter even when he was right in front of him. When he came before the grave of his late (no pun intended) friend he smashed his zheng (Chinese instrument) into pieces exclaiming "if there's no one who understands my music then why do I even bother?". And so in Chinese we call someone who truly understands us "zhi yin", it is because they know our music." Soo Lin sighed. "Sorry to bore you with this lengthy tale but—"

"Oh no no, it's quite intriguing. But I'll never be Sherlock's zhi yin." John's eyes lowered before he laughed a bit. "I have absolutely no idea how the violin works."

Soo Lin cracked a smile at the joke. "It's been very pleasant talking with you, do you have any more questions?"

"Right, I almost forgot, you said a change came over Moran during the first year of secondary. Do you have any idea what happened?"

"Moran's brother had died that year while being a journalist in in the Middle East, a terrorist group apparently. But it was more than that, Moran changed. People grief and change when loved ones pass on but this was different, Moran always seemed to be anxious and pressured. Slowly he seemed to have become a new person. There's nothing left of Sebastian except his shell. The Seb I knew had disappeared." Soo Lin had worked herself up a bit again for her doe like eyes showed pure grief. "It's good that I have Andy by me at times like this. You know, I more or less grew up with Moran. He helped me through my hardest times in England."

John nodded as he got up. He knew that it was time that he left.

"Thank you, Soo Lin, you can count on us to bring Moran back."


	8. An Email From JM

John was still fixing his scarf when he noticed Sherlock on the sidewalk in front of the Chinese restaurant which was beside Soo Lin's apartment.

"I thought we had agreed on meeting at your place." John raised an eyebrow which turned to both eyebrows as Sherlock started fixing his scarf for him.

But before he could say or do anything, his scarf was slipped off by Sherlock who started waving the scarf around tauntingly.

"God. Sherlock. Stop. Being. So. Juvenile!" John exclaimed as he tried in vain to get his scarf back from Sherlock who had raised the scarf above his head just out of John's reach.

But Sherlock had clearly underestimated John's ability to defy Earth's gravity because with one final jump, John was able to get a hold of the scarf. But defiance of gravity could only last so long and soon enough John had brought not only his scarf but Sherlock tumbling down onto him.

They stared at each other for a moment before bursting out into laughter as John shoved Sherlock off himself.

"Despite you looking like a walking stick, you're actually quite heavy." John wiped a tear out of his eye as he helped Sherlock up.

"Oh, shut up." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

John checked his watch. "It's eleven thirty and I haven't eaten breakfast yet. Fantastic."

"Hungry?" Sherlock asked pulling open the door of the little Chinese restaurant.

"Starving." John responded coming in.

They took a seat by the window taking notice that it had started to snow lightly again. John handed Sherlock the notebook and pen as they sat on either side of the little table.

Sherlock scanned through the little notebook like robot scanning through lines of codes. Two cups of hot tea was brought to them by a waiter.

"What do you think of this, John?" Sherlock asked as he placed the pen and notebook down on the table.

"The two tigers… And when Soo Lin talked about their first year in secondary. I have a feeling those are important clues but I really have no idea." John shrugged taking a sip from his cup.

"An email actually came today, it's interesting to say the least." Sherlock handed John his phone which displayed the email:

So glad you're in the game, oh the fun we're going to have!

Good progress I being made but the clock is ticking Sherlock,

Tick tock

Tick tock

J.M.

"And the criminal mastermind has emailed you, great, what next? Go bust out his secret lair?" John laughed a little giving Sherlock back his phone.

"That should be done as soon as possible after I go check the records…" Sherlock set his elbows of the table putting his fingertips together.

John opened his mouth to give a reply but was stopped by the waiter who had appeared beside them.

"Hello, have you guys decided what you would like or do you still need a minute?" The waiter gave a nice smile probably happy about the prospect of tips on a snowy day.

"Yeah, we still need a minute, we'll call you when we're done ordering." John smiled back a little out of politeness with Sherlock giving the waiter a full body scan.

"Gay."

"Sorry?" The waiter furrowed his brows.

"Um, I mean hey." Sherlock quickly changed noticing John's disapproving glance.

The waiter left then without another word.

"Great, lovely Sherlock, you've managed to piss off another one of your fellow humans." John whispered fiercely.

"He's just another goldfish." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "John, the song is everything. The two tigers, they're both missing a body part. Why?"

John laughed. "Sherlock, this is ridiculous. You're not actually taking the lyrics seriously? It's just some random song that children sing. Like a nursery rhymes!"

"John, shut up for now and listen. I found traces of anaesthetic in Bluebell's bowl. Both Mrs. Stapleton and James both work in the biological field. They're short on funds but are fixated by biology. A passion can drive people to achieve great things but it can also lead people into very dark places…"

"Now Bluebell wasn't just some rabbit. He was a species of endangered rabbit, The New England Cotton-tail in fact. Probably smuggled here from America. So two biologists with a rabbit that was smuggled here, given anaesthetics and kidnapped right under their daughter's noses. Now we have a rhyme pointing to animal experimentation linked to Moran's death. The only thing that links the disappearance of Moran's kidnapping and Bluebell's kidnapping is.."

"J.M." John replied with wide eyes. "That was fantastic."

"A simple reasoning really." Sherlock grinned a little.

"But you're not actually serious. About the "busting out the super villain's lair thing". I mean this should be handed to the police! We can't go on and just confront someone who can control the press!" John smiled incredulously not believing what Sherlock was trying to suggest.

"But we must. Time's short and we need to get Moran back soon. He's no use to whoever J.M. is and if we just hand this off to the police then he would be dead before Scotland Yard could figure out that he was kidnapped!" Sherlock looked John square in the eyes. "You made a vow."

John blinked a few times before his eyes narrowed. "How do you—

 **"Thank you, Soo Lin, you can count on us to bring Moran back."**

John blinked in disbelief as his very own voice came out of the pen.

"I've been listening in the library. People tend to keep their guards up around me." Sherlock explained before pocketing his pen.

John sighed running his hand through his hair. "Sherlock, why can't you just trust me? Or if you just told me…"

"No John, the problem is that..."

"What? Is it that I'm just an idiotic goldfish as you refer to us "humans"?"

"Humans are innately flawed."

"Yes, then you must be enigma." John stood up abruptly before shoving his chair into the table. He was leaving this machine to calculate all by himself.

Sherlock just shrugged taking another sip of his tea.

John supressed his will to just kick the door open as the cold wind came in, stealing warmth from the little restaurant and himself. He wandered on in the snow wanting to do something to stop the emotions eating him alive inside. It gnawed on his heart, his lungs, his throat. It was like a ravenous beast but also a thick black tar, choking him, drowning him. He had hoped so bad to be unique in Sherlock's eyes. But those grey eyes only analyzed and picked him apart. Piece by piece.

Every word that came from those cupid bow lips spoke the truth and sentenced him to heartbreak.

"John!"

John swear that he almost slipped by the speed with which he turned around.

"You forgot your scarf." Sherlock huffed as he came up and started wrapping it around John's neck.

"Sherlock! I can do it myself!" John pushed Sherlock away as he started fixing his own scarf.

Only the wind and the shuffling of John's scarf could be heard. There was a silence which seemed louder than the howling wind, than John's pounding heart… It was almost tangible.

"I'm sorry."

John's eyes grew wide as they fell on Sherlock's rouge cheeks.

"Pardon?"

"You know I don't like repeating myself!" Sherlock ruffled his messy hair in annoyance. "… I said I'm sorry. I should give you the amount of trust equal to what you give me. I'm not a machine… I'm human too. Will you forgive me?"

John smiled lowering his head a bit and looking away. "I'll always forgive you."

Sherlock cleared his throat with his cheeks red from the cold and maybe a little something else… "Well, that's good, than…thank you."

He took a little plastic bag from his coat. "I thought you'd like some since you know, we didn't, get the food… Anyways I… I'll text you later!"

With that he turned around and dashed down the street.

"Right now, we observe a wild John Hamish Watson daydreaming, but wait there's something else… Lo and behold ladies and gentlemen. He's in love! But this is incredible, our goody two-toes has fallen in love. Tell me, is it that Sherlock that you're always rambling about? I always knew you weren't straight, it's in the family."

John scowled at Harry who was pinching his cheeks.

"Harry, stop being so obnoxious, will you? I'm not in love and I'm definitely straight! Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get good grades for college unlike someone here."

Harry just chuckled wandering into the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Oh, Harry stop teasing your brother and go do your homework." Ms. Watson came in to save the day giving John a peck on the cheeks. "Don't mind your sister, you be you."

"Thanks mom, how's your headache?" John put his pencil down as his mother took a seat at the table.

"Better, but Advils only last so long."

Harry took the chance to jump in. "I completely understand, once I scraped my knees on the gravel and some stones got stuck…"

John rolled his eyes. "We'd prefer to not know the details Harry."

Harry laughed handing John a cup of water. "Mom, how's your article coming along? Splendidly I hope?"

"Young lady, don't think a few nice words will compensate for getting a tattoo without my permission." Mrs. Watson said sternly taking out her little notebook.

But John and Harry could see the smile in her eyes and it wasn't long before they all started laughing.

 _This is all he could wish for_. That was the only thought in John's head as he lay awake in his bed with the moonlight shining brightly through his window and onto his alarm clock.

 _This is everything he wanted._

Everything was dark. John felt around him trying to find out where he was. His hands met with cold iron bars which formed a cage around him. He was nervous to say the least, he had no idea where he was.

Suddenly the lights came on showing a stage in front of John showing a shadow. It was formless except for the smile it bore.

Slowly, it started to take form, a tall, portly built man emerged from the shadows. John's eyes went wide at the realization of who it was. But it was instantly gone because the next thing he knew, the shadow started becoming thinner and turning to someone else… Someone John knew by heart.

Sherlock fell to the stage floor with his back to John. Crimson blood started trickling down the stage and into his cage. There was nothing he can do except watch his hands go red with Sherlock's blood…

" _DING_ "

John jerked awake before his eyes were drawn to his phone which lit up displaying a text from Sherlock.

"God, seriously?" John groaned to himself as he grabbed his phone from his desk while rubbing his eyes.

*tap tap tap*

John turned to his window seeing Sherlock sitting on the window ledge like none of this was wrong.

"Sherlock! For Christ's sake, what is going on?" John whispered furiously as Sherlock slipped in silently.

"Well I texted you but you weren't answering."

"Of course, it's three in the morning Sherlock."

"Well, so I decided that I should come and find you. The front door was locked and I couldn't just break in so…"

"So you decided that crawling in from my window at three in the morning was the best idea there was. Sherlock what's so important that you've decided to break the law? You should be glad we live on the first floor."

"John. I know where Moran and Bluebell are."


	9. A Lurking Hunter

**Short Note: So terribly sorry for such a late update and such a short one at that! School is starting and I have music theory which is a spawn of satan himself. The next chapter will be the good stuff (hopefully) so without further ado please enjoy!**

"I was pondering about all this when Mycroft budged into my room." Sherlock emphasized the word "budge" showing his clear disdain for Mycroft. "He was calling me down for dinner and so I asked him if he knew anything about the history of Sherrinford. He threw this book at me and just like that I've affirmed my theory."

Sherlock took out a thick book with yellowing pages which had just recently had a thick layer of dust brushed off carelessly with the sleeve of a shirt.

John raised an eyebrow, even is sleepiness couldn't stop his curiosity. "And this is…?"

"A record of my ancestors. Apparently, someone in my family had once been knighted in the late 1800's and he started this book. I would call this meaningless as it will undoubtedly be lost in the near future but it did provide me with much help." Sherlock said as he opened the book to where a bookmark was.

"Sherrinford Holmes. 1902-1968. Right, and what does your ancestor have to do with the disappearance of Moran and Bluebell?" John asked.

"Sherrinford was an unsuccessful veterinary. He opened up a business when he was thirty but it seems that after three years he decided to build a school on top of his business. Thus, he became the headmaster and founder of Sherrinford Secondary. Now referring back to the little "poem" Moran wrote us. It referred to inside Sherrinford but I've checked everywhere and still no trace of him. The only possible solution would be that he is beneath the school and this book gave me the final evidence that I needed." Sherlock said as he snapped the book shut looking very pleased with himself.

"So you're saying that they're right below Sherrinford. In an ancient pet clinic. Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?" John whispered furiously.

"Well, if you have any complaints you can email him." Sherlock tossed John his phone which displayed three emails.

So glad you're in the game, oh the fun we're going to have!

Good progress is being made but the clock is ticking Sherlock,

Tick tock

Tick tock

J.M.

Moran and Bluebell are in Sherrinford.

The game is up.

S.H.

Tomorrow at 18:00 in Sherrinford.

Come out and play if you want them back.

J.M.

John just groaned quietly.

"You… don't have to come." Sherlock muttered looking almost… hurt.

"Well of course I have to come! I'm not just gonna leave you to walk into this trap by yourself!" John exclaimed before handing the phone back.

"I knew my Watson wouldn't let me down." Sherlock beamed at John who in turn just smiled.

"Sherlock, I have something to tell y…"

John began but was cut off by the light which seeped into the room from under the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow, John." With that Sherlock gave a quick wink and slipped out of the window like a sleek black cat.

"John? What are you doing up so late? Were you talking to someone?" Harry stood at John's door with crossed arms.

"No, it's none of your business Harry." John returned to his bed giving Harry the signal that she should probably leave.

"And why's the window open…?"

"Maybe I fancied a breath of fresh air? For God's sake Harry! Get out!" With that John brought the blanket over his head making himself look like a oversized white cocoon.

"Alright, Juliet."

John didn't know what expression she had on her face when she closed the door but he could just imagine the smug grin plastered across her face as she saw the cocoon flinch in reaction.

John tossed and turned in his bed, just him and his racing heart lying awake. There was only one thing, or one person on his mind right now.

His wink, his smile, his eyes, his scarf… everything.

He wasn't emotionally impaired and knew what all of this meant.

 _I'm in love…_

John thought shaking his head with a helpless grin. He could never tell Sherlock this, all he could do is pray to God that his "high-functioning sociopath" wouldn't be able to notice this petty feeling of his.

Sherlock was not one to be bound by all the emotion and sentiments of this world.

So all he could do was smile wryly to himself as he drifted off to much wanted sleep.

John slipped into the silent school quietly behind Sherlock who was already running down the corridor. The school echoed of Sherlock's footsteps and the thud of the closed door.

"Where are we going?" John asked catching up to Sherlock.

"The roof of course. We'll figure out how Moran was taken underground from the very top." Sherlock replied as they started to climb the stairs.

"Well, he could've just went back the way he came unto the roof if he never actually fell down the roof." John pointed out as they scaled the first flight of stairs.

"But he didn't, I've watched all the surveillance footage of this school none of them shows Moran anywhere but on the roof." Sherlock said. "We have Molly helping us out with the hacking. She would know if someone had altered the footages."

John nodded if this went as it should, Moran and Bluebell should be back safe and sound by the end of tonight.

The sun has almost disappeared from their view but it still left its mark behind onto the skies. It seems that whoever painted the heavens had accidently dropped their pallet onto the canvas because the sky was a brilliant mix of pink, scarlet, purple and gold.

This, of course was only noticed by John because the moment Sherlock had set foot on the roof he started to examine every inch of the roof with his pocket magnifying glass.

He reminded John of his old dog, Gladstone when he would sniff out the rabbits from the bushes. In this case, they were trying to find a rabbit too, along with a human.

"Um, anything I can do to help?" John asked as he surveyed the roof quickly finding nothing out of place.

"It would be nice if you could stay quiet." Sherlock said back as he continued his careful examination of the roof. He was already through a quarter of the roof yet no results have turned up yet.

John rolled his eyes as he decided to take a look behind the doorway from which they came. It wasn't huge with the width of about two and a half meters and the length of three meters.

Sherlock groaned as he was interrupted from his work yet again, but this time by the ring of his phone.

"Sherlock Holmes speaking…"

" _Sherlo-!"_

John's exclamation made Sherlock stand up and look about in alert. There was someone else here…

"Sherlock! The footage, the footage has been tampered with. You need to get…"

What sounded like a phone being dropped could be heard from Molly's side.

"Sherlock? Sherlock!"

But it was too late.

The hunter has caught his quarries.


	10. The Flight of the Quarries

"Welcome to my lab, gentlemen."

John's eyes fluttered open as he looked about him groggily. He could feel the throbbing pain coming from the back of his neck but when he tried to feel it with his hand, he could only do so much as move his wrists about.

He suddenly remembered everything that had happened. The rooftop, the sunset, the man behind the doorway…

"Sherlock, Sherlock?" John whispered as nudged Sherlock who was tied back to back with him.

"I guess he hit him a bit harder than he was supposed to… But then he did put up quite the fight."

John turned his attention to the smiling man in front of them who was barely illuminated by the dim lighting, but it was unmistakable, he knew who this is.

"James…?"

"Oh, so you remembered my name! What a joy. People usually tend to forget me." He said dramatically in a sing song tone.

"Sherlock always had his suspicions about you." John glared.

"And all _you_ did was trying to prove him wrong. Jealous?"

"No! I'm not jealous, I was trying to try to get him to think another way."

James only laughed. "So quick to defend yourself! Now there's definitely something going on!"

John scowled and looked down. "I will not be turned against him."

"I was just trying to get you to think another way." He shrugged. "To fix a problem you'll have to admit it first."

"How can I admit something that doesn't exist?"

"I don't know, how will you?"

John felt Sherlock move behind him.

"John…?"

"Sherlock, I'm here."

"Look at you two. I completely agree with everything that Soo Lin has said."

John narrowed his eyes, Soo Lin couldn't possibly…

"Looks like you were watched by two people that day." Sherlock laughed a little as John groaned.

"Lovely."

"Look on the bright side…"

"Don't you dare tell me to be optimistic you—

"ENOUGH!"

John and Sherlock's attention was immediately captured by the sudden outburst of their captor.

He took in a breath before a smile appeared on his face once again.

"Now that I have you gentlemen's attention." A pause. "As to the whereabouts of the rabbit I'm sure I can provide an answer."

With that, something was thrown in front of John and Sherlock and landed with a thump.

John looked away immediately trying to resist the urge to vomit all over the white tiles. He could feel Sherlock tremble behind him.

" _What_ have you done with Bluebell?" Sherlock's voice had become dangerously low, he was seething.

The rabbit which lay on the floor was skinned but there were still tuffs of blood soaked fur left on the shiny red muscles which now lay exposed. Her eyes and mouth were sewed shut and dried blood clung unto every inch of her skin.

"Sherlock… I think she's still… alive…" John muttered slowly as he noticed the inconsistent twitch of her fleshy paws which used to covered by a coat of fur of snow.

"A little dose of stimulant does the job. We had such fun with her. Each of her scars bear a greater good for her kind, for every species of this earth!" The man grinned. "I won't tell you our discoveries but imagine the good we can do with even more animals! We could save humanity."

"From what? From ourselves?" Sherlock spat out coldly. "Tell me, how much money did you make off of her?"

"Oh Mr. Holmes, as a man of logic you must understand. Our ancestors didn't crawl to the top with mercy and love. Nothing might deserve this but what can they do when they get it?" With that he kicked the rabbit sideways as if to prove his point but the smile on his face made it seem as if it was just for his amusement.

"How do you think all the vaccines were made? To save lives, lives must be wasted. Do you know the official name we categorized mankind in? Homo Sapien, wise man in Latin, interesting isn't it? But after all we are all just animals, Mr. Holmes."

Sherlock looked away, _he had failed…_

"Now, I am a man of action and not one prone to idle around. So, I present you with two choices. You may choose to drop everything. Forget the note, forget the rabbit and the bully. You forget everything that has happened and we may never have to cross paths again." He paused. "But if you insist on wading in these deep waters, I'll make sure you never see the land again."

With a snap of his fingers, a red dot appeared on John's chest.

"Now, make your decision."

"We'll float thank you very much."

With that the rope dropped to the floor as John pounced and took him by the collar before pointing a swiss army knife to his jugular vein.

"Don't worry. I'm just an aspiring doctor. I know exactly where your veins are." John grinned seeing the villain freeze. "Now, you order the sniper to put down his gun and tell us where Moran is. Or I'll just have to crush the head of a snake."

"Mr. Watson, I'm afraid you know nothing."

The world spun around John before an excruciating pain came from his side which was thrown to the ground. He could only stare as James jumped onto Sherlock who was still holding his head in pain.

*BANG*

A stream of crimson blood started trickling onto the white ceramic floor. John and Sherlock could only look to each other in shock as the realization dawned on them. James had saved Sherlock…

Sherlock could only stare blankly at the dying man in front of him. This was impossible, he was J. M. why would he…?

 _But what if he wasn't JM?_

"Who are you?" Sherlock asked aggressively holding the man by his shoulders.

"My name… is James Sheppard. Sa..save yourselves. I… I work for-

*BANG*

The man's body fell unto Sherlock once more from the second shot which was just centimeters from his heart.

"Moriarty."

That was the last word that came out of Sheppard's mouth before he fell limp under Sherlock's unbelieving gaze.

"John!" Sherlock pulled John behind him and the body as another bullet hit where John would've been if Sherlock hadn't pulled him away.

"Sherlock, what do we do?" John looked to Sherlock, fear written clearly in his watery blue eyes.

"We'll have to use his body as a shield. The door is just on our right, I have some paperclips and with luck we'll make it out of here." Sherlock looked back with determination. "John, believe in me."

John nodded firmly setting his lips into a straight line. _He just had to trust Sherlock._

They started making their way towards the door. There were counters in the room which provided some cover. Sometimes the shot would hit the counters but almost always they hit Sheppard's body, they were dealing with a real marksman here. All it would take was one mistake and death would be inevitable for one of them.

Suddenly John felt a searing pain shoot from his calf. He gave a yelp of pain as he collapsed onto the floor, clutching unto his calf. It had only been a graze but it was unlike any other pain he had ever experienced before, he felt paralyzed by the pain.

The sniper had changed his angle.

"John!" Sherlock quickly started inspecting John's bleeding calf.

"Sherlock, you have to go on. I'll be fine." John squeezed out a smile. "The world needs a Sherlock Holmes more than it needs a John Watson."

"Well this Sherlock Holmes needs his John Watson more than the world." Sherlock took his scarf and started tying it around the wound tightening it a little too much and making John wince. "Don't you _dare_ value my life above yours."

John's eyes widened as he heard a choking sound coming from Sherlock. Was he crying…?

"Are you alright?"

"Of course I'm fine, now come on." Sherlock took John's arm and started carrying him. Just a few more steps until the door which separated life from death.

Sherlock started picking at the lock as John held the body in front of them both. They were so close…so close.

John's eyes entire body froze as a shadow slipped down one of the pillars. He looked to Sherlock who was oblivious to it all picking furiously at the lock. He couldn't help but panic, his breathes hitching as he started rummaging through his own pockets for anything useful.

The shadow grew ever closer but Sherlock wasn't done, they were going to die here, unknown to the rest of the world, and all it took was two bullets.

A gun fell out of the dead man's pocket and John scrambled to pick it up.

"Stay away!" John aimed at the shadow with trembling hands, every muscle in his body tensed up and adrenaline rushed through his veins.

The shadow merely raised up their hands and stopped, their motion slow as if amused at all of this.

*Click*

John's speeding heart slowed down a bit as he heard the lock open. But this wave of relief was cut short as the shadow started running towards them.

John tried to pull the trigger but his body seemed to be frozen in place by sheer horror. He wasn't prepared for this… he didn't want blood on his hands…

Suddenly he felt a pair of cool, bony hands pull off the safety and wrap around his own trembling hands.

" _I'll take the blame."_

And together they fired.

*CRASH*

The man fell as the light crashed on top of his shoulders. He seemed to be barely conscious and a growl of rage which was not unlike one that a wolf lets out after losing its prey escaped from the man's bared teeth.

John could only stare at the man as he was pulled up by Sherlock who took one of arms and held his waist to carry him along.

"We're almost there John."

John turned to look at Sherlock who was now all rid of his usual aloof demeanor. His grey eyes were set like steel and his lips were pressed tightly together as if holding something back.

"We'll be *sniff* ok."

The tears came out like broken strands of pearls as they stepped slowly out of the deadly room. They walked out side by side into the unknown corridor both sobbing silently out of joy and fear.

It wasn't over yet and they will have to go through even more together down the road. But for now at least, they had each other. And that was all John could ask for as they walked in silent comradery.


	11. Meet the Sherrinford Division!

*** Author's Note: Hey guys sorry for such a late update! I've been so busy lately with music theory and my examinations are next week! I'll try to get to writing Ch. 12 ASAP but there are no guarantees (especially since I've been obsessed with Merlin lately XD) Reviews are motivate me tremendously so please leave once if you enjoyed the chapter or have any problems with it! I'll stop my blabbering now, please enjoy the chapter!***

"John, what the hell did you think you were doing?!"

Harriet Watson could swear that she has never been this mad before in her life and the pungent disinfectant of John's ward did nothing to improve her mood.

"I told you Harry, Sherlock and I were just hanging out." John sighed seeing the displeased looks on both women's faces. "And we might've run into a thug who was torturing a rabbit."

"Oh and you just decided to play the hero and try to stop an armed man? This isn't courage John, this is idiocrasy." Harry threw her arms up in exasperation. "Did you know how worried you made mom? I thought you were the smarter one out of the two of us."

John sighed bowing his head. "I'm sorry mom, I'm sorry Harry. I shouldn't have been so rash."

"Oh John, I'm just glad that you're safe." His mother embraced him gently smoothing out his sandy hair. "I don't know what I would do if lost you."

John's eyes widened as he felt a familiar sensation from his hair.

"Please, mother, don't cry." John hugged back feeling each shuddering breath his mother took in and let out. "Don't cry."

"Sorry, I think I came in at the wrong time." Sherlock said as he stood by door with his fingers tapping the side of his thighs.

Ms. Watson let go of John and tried to wipe her eyes the best she could.

"I'll come with you Sherlock." John said as he started getting off the bed.

"John you're staying here. Sherlock, as you can see my brother has been shot in the leg I think that it's unreasonable—

"Harry, I'll be fine." John interrupted quietly patting Harry on the arm. "There's no need to worry."

Harry sighed. "Fine, but be quick."

John nodded as he took his crouches and started towards the door where Sherlock stood.

"Shall we?" John smiled gesturing towards the corridor.

Sherlock nodded as they walked out of the room and into the hallway. John smiled as he noticed Sherlock closing the door behind him and deliberately slowing his footsteps to accommodate John.

They stopped a little ways outside the room.

"Now Sherlock, I hope y—

John was interrupted as he was enveloped in a bone crushing embrace. His face immediately turned beet red as he noticed how close Sherlock was. He could tell Sherlock… Sherlock wouldn't reject him, he was special to Sherlock… right?

"John, I'm so sorry to have brought such dangers to you. I… I was too blinded by my own ego and you know if we hadn't done what we did. I might've lost you… and… well, that's something I wouldn't be able to bear."

Sherlock had never looked so scared… He was always so composed, calm and far away. John knew if there were any chances for him it would now.

"Sherlock," John took a deep breath in as he took Sherlock's hands off his shoulders and into his own. "I like…" John looked up into Sherlock's eyes.

But suddenly Sherlock's hands slipped out and what John saw in Sherlock's eyes was an answer of its own. They held a look of… repulsion.

"I like… adventures so it's alright. I'm glad I was there." John gave a quick smile turning around as quickly as possible. He felt like his heart was going to die from the pain. The tears were once again threatening to drown him… this was bad… he should've known… this feeling, this feeling would never—

*Thump*

John closed his eyes in humiliation feeling the cold floor pressed against his face. He couldn't even walk away.

"John!"

"No!" John bit his lips but a whimper was still let out. "I... I can manage."

His fractured rib felt like it had been punctured into his lungs but his leg felt even worse. The pain was almost too much to bear.

But despite this he stood up with his side to the wall and started stumbling forward.

 _So this is what courage brings…_

John broke down the instant he slid to the floor against the closed door. ignoring his body's protests , he pulled his knees to his chest. If only this could stop the pain within him…

Sherlock looked down to the floor as his fingers slid off the door knob. It was quite clear what John thought of him now. He had lost John after all…

A strange pain grew within him as each desperate sob reached his ears. What if he had just lied? Just to keep him beside himself….

"Sherlock, let him go, it's the best for both of you."

Mycroft's solemn words sounded behind him.

Sherlock had never listened to his brother, mostly out of spite but this time he just turned around and left with his brother. This was the best ending for them both.

John was let home after a few days in the hospital, he still had to walk around with a crutch but nothing hurt as much anymore.

They ended before they even began…

John's thoughts drifted as the scenes to school which was becoming more and more familiar to him flashed past his eyes.

"John?" Greg poked John in the head. "Earth to moon, earth to moon do you copy?"

John turned around to face his friend. "Greg, I'm alright."

"Says the person walking around with nothing left to break." Greg crossed his arms and sighed. "And it's not just your ribs and leg you broke, is it?"

John fell silent.

"Time is the best medicine." John finally muttered out as the bus approached the school.

It was sunny today so the golden rays poured into the maths classroom. John made his way to his own desk but frowned as he remembered that he still sat next to Sherlock.

He was slightly startled as the door opened with a click. He didn't bother to turn around, he knew Sherlock would probably move himself.

"John."

"Greg!" John turned around at the sound of his friend, surprised that it wasn't who he thought behind him.

"Well, I was just thinking, it might not exactly cheer you up or anything but—well in my opinion—there's something cool I'd like to show you at lunch. Do you have anything planned or…?"

"Sounds great, I'll meet you outside the history classroom at lunch."

The bell rang as Greg muttered a quick "See ya" and rushed out of the door. John turned his attention to the front of the room and rested his head on one of his hands. He needed to act like nothing had happened when Sherlock moved away.

So when the chair beside was pulled open beside John, he couldn't help but give a look at Sherlock who sat himself not able to feel the awkwardness settling between them.

John wanted to believe that Sherlock was still willing to be his friend, that nothing had changed between them. But he knew that wasn't the case, what did Sherlock call himself again? Ah yes, a "high-functioning sociopath". He was a master of his own emotions which was more than John can say for himself.

"John. I think we need to talk through some things."

The baritone voice John loved to hear so much sounded so jarring to his ears at this moment.

"Yes, I think so too."

John dared a glance at Sherlock before looking away again, he can't bare to look in those erudite eyes anymore, they seemed to be staring right through him as if he was a specimen under a microscope.

"I understand that you have grown to… harbour some affections towards me. And I thank you for your interest but, as you are likely aware—

"I know Sherlock, I know." John quickly cut him off. "Love is just a-a deficiency to you."

"Yes." Sherlock gave a curt nod of the head before they both fell silent. It was as if Mr. Brook decided that today would be the perfect day to be slightly late to class.

"I know everything's ruined between us… I think it's good that we had the courage to sort this mess out."

"Courage is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think?"

John said no quietly in his head as Sherlock turned his attention to the newly arrived teacher.

Lunch rolled around slowly as usual and when the bell rang, John almost forgot that he had promised to meet Greg outside the history classroom at lunch.

"Hey." John staggered with a little difficulty towards Greg with his crutches who smiled and returned a "hey".

"Well, you seem to be quite into solving cases with Sherlock so I thought that I'd let you in on our little "club"." Greg said with an almost gleeful look in his eyes.

"Right, so what's this little "club" of yours?" John asked as they stopped in front of the science classroom.

"As much of a loner Sherlock seems to be he definitely isn't alone when it came to solving cases. We've gathered some students who wants to work in the field of crime investigation and assembled a team to assist Sherlock but also to "keep the order" of the school." Greg opened the door for John showing Donovan, Anderson and a girl with a long, brown ponytail and gentle doe-like eyes.

"Look who we have here, it's the freak's friend." Donovan was the first one to react to John's entrance but was shot a glare by the girl with the ponytail.

"Donovan? Anderson? But weren't they…?" John turned to Greg expecting an answer.

Greg shrugged. "It was Sherlock's idea."

"I don't think I'll ever know what he's planning." John sighed exasperated.

"I don't think anyone will." Greg replied. "We couldn't do much about Moran, since he was the son of a general it was practically impossible to get him expelled even if we did get evidence of him bullying other kids. So it was Sherlock's idea to make himself the "victim", I put quotes around there because he often makes Moran look like the victim after their various encounters. Of course, Sally and Scott here are the only reasons he kept on with "bullying" Sherlock."

"I reckon everyone feels like a victim after talking with him." Anderson snickered and an unreceived glare was sent his way by the girl.

"But with you John, I've never seen him so—I can't believe I'm saying this about Sherlock Holmes—obedient and… decent." Greg said.

John had the strongest urge to just run way now. Greg would never know that even if they still attended the same school, even if they still sat beside each other in maths, _never can they fix each other's scarf again… Never can they roll in the snow laughing as the world around them slipped out of their mind… Never again can Sherlock ever look at him again without disgust…_

The last thought was almost enough to make the tears he'd been blinking back come out again. He needed time, time for this wound to heal.

"Oh, and I haven't introduced Molly yet. This is our tech wizard and key to the lab, she's Mrs. Hooper's daughter. Molly, this is John, Sherlock's friend." Greg introduced them as Molly gave John a little wave.

It turns out that Donovan and Anderson were dating and thank goodness for that because in John's opinion they're both jerks (ultimately good-willed though) and it's quite fortunate for the human race that they were dating each other instead of someone else who probably won't be able to cope with their attitudes.

The little group's name was the Sherrinford division as John soon found out (He suspects that they just made the name up on the spot because he asked) and that he was invited as the medical consultant into the group which he gladly accepted.

Anything to take his mind off of Sherlock Holmes for the time being. That was what his mind was telling him, but he knew that his heart had a very different picture in mind.


End file.
